


Seeker

by Keltoi



Category: Destiny (Video Games), Transformers: Prime
Genre: Crossover, Exploration, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Second Chances, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27936617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keltoi/pseuds/Keltoi
Summary: "No matter how far you travel, home is closer than you think." - A Cloak Called Home
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

** Prelude/Present/Epilogue **

**"Error"**

Everything was on the line. The Dreaming City, the Tangled Shore, the entirety of the Reef. Lennox-2 knew that. But it wasn't what drove her to delve into the dragon's insanity.

She roared, she punched and kicked, she fired until her gun clicked empty and then she turned to her Light. A Taken Knight bore down on her with a raised sword and fire in its eye, but she slammed her Arc staff into it, _through it_ , before it could annihilate her.

A Void arrow whistled by her head and struck a Taken Hobgoblin dead centre. Great limbs of violet shot out and linked with the Taken's pals, and through them to others. A well-thrown Solar grenade put an end to them, but the Taken kept coming. The Ahamkara was giving no quarter.

" _Sniper on your six._ "

Lennox twirled about and tossed a knife at the altered Vandal. It fell apart in a fine shadowy mist. Her Ghost dropped another weapon in her hands. She holstered her hand cannon and hefted the fully primed rifle. A pull of the trigger cut down a swathe of rapidly replicating Psions that had begun to make a nuisance of themselves.

A line of shield-bearing Cabal clad in unkind stars came into being before them. Not a moment later, a beam of roaring Arc cut them all in two, shields included. Their killer, a Warlock in Braytech armour, ran past their evaporating corpses without a second glance.

"Come on!" He called back. He held under one arm an orb full of Darkness. A storm hovered around him, crackling with barely-restrained fury.

Lennox cursed. "My knife!"

" _We'll get it later,_ " Gecko quickly told her, " _but you need to keep moving!_ "

She grumbled but raced on all the same. She would have to settle for punching - oh, if only Jaxson were here to see!

They shouldered and shot their way into the next chamber, where a pit lay waiting in the middle of the pristine floor. They were close, very close. Only a horde of Taken between her fireteam and victory.

She unloaded all of her energy rifle's power cells into the mass of Taken limbs and eyes, but it wasn't enough. A towering Centurion reared up above the dragon's host of minions and held up a glowing fist.

Lennox took out her sniper rifle, which snapped and screamed just like the creatures before her, and fired point blank. The Centurion died. It was poetic: killing Taken creatures with a Taken weapon.

" _Stay focused._ "

"I am focused," she snapped. A Captain jumped her. She ducked beneath the sloppy swipe of its swords and smacked it across the head with her rifle. She finished the critter with a Solar knife to the throat. Lennox was ecstatic. She loved this. The intensity of combat in this mad dash for victory. Nothing their foes could throw would ever stop them in their tracks.

She wished every mission would go this swimmingly.

She wished.

Lennox-2 didn't even have time to scream as the jaws of finality slammed shut and dragged her off into the depths of unreality.

* * *

Lennox onlined her optics to a world of off-kilter symmetry. It didn't make sense at first. It didn't make any more sense the longer she looked at it. An unending metal landscape in every direction. Everything was polished to a gleaming bronze. The architects of the place couldn't have made it any more different to the Dreaming City if they tried.

"This looks like... Vex."

She said that. Or would say that.

"Kinda hard to tell when time's stagnated."

That wasn't her. She doesn't know who it is, but she will know/does know/has known. The voice was/is/will be all around her, as formless as morning mist.

"Stagnated is the incorrect term, actually. It hasn't stagnated. For something to stagnate, it has to be active in the first place/last place, which never did/never will happen here. There's no time, aside from what bleeds through the Vault, through the Pyramidion, the Forest. All those places that link the universe to the place Vex come from. That place outside the river. Outside time. I like to call it the Observatory, but, ya know, whatever suits."

"Who are you?" She asked and would ask.

"Ah, names! What are names? Bits of funny-sounding air designed to encapsulate the identity of an existing thing. Utter crap, that. Things just are!"

"But... there's a purpose in talking."

"Not the way you talk. There's a language, a harmonic one, that captures the very essence of that it names, and there's the Vex numbering for everything too, but in this in-between of ours neither will make sense."

Lennox didn't/wouldn't like that. "So we're in Vex space?"

"Normally I'd say there isn't so much 'space' in the Network, but you and your pal changed that."

"My pal?"

"Your gun."

Lennox understood. She'd always known it, and somehow never would. "Oh no."

"Oh yes. He may be the Will of Thousands, but by His Logic one Will has to prevail against all others. His Will, to be exact. And He Willed this in being."

"So the big whatshisface wanted us to talk?"

"No, and that's the funny part. He wanted something, but first He had to get there. Death is a journey, something you and Him both understand. You were the vessel, and He the hitchhiker. Now He is the potential vessel, and you the would-be hitchhiker."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Getting nervous?"

She stood up and raised/would raise her fists. No knife. Where was her damn knife? "Try me."

A crinkling laugh echoed across the vast Vexscape. "You Guardians really are brutes! All you do is fight and kill and destroy."

She lowered/would lower her fists. "Praedyth?"

"No."

"Then who?"

"Just another lost soul."

"Are you Vex?"

"They're a sophisticated bunch, but you and I both know that despite their reality-wide existence, they get a bit dumb whenever Guardians are involved. No, I am not Vex."

"Are you going to tell me who you are?"

"I can't answer that."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't. I don't have anything. I'm just a voice with eyes."

"What do you want?"

"Same thing as everyone: not to end. I like wandering around these Vex installations. They're like great big windows, and there's so much to see. I'll forget it all, but hey, then I get to experience the blissful sensation of discovery all over again."

Lennox huffed. "Right... Where's the exit?"

"You don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

"And I thought I was the forgetful one. What happened before all this?"

"I was with my team in the city and we..." Lennox froze up. "It caught me. She caught me. The Dragon."

The voice hummed/hums/will hum thoughtfully. "The dragon whom feeds on the separation between subjective desire and objective reality, whom feeds upon the creation of a wish. The Vex cannot replicate that which does not have a clear pattern of causality, so that entails you, the Dragon, and He the Worm. But the Dragon and the Worm are not like you. They are beings of a different ecological niche. I always wondered what would happen if a Dragon and Worm met one another... at least I think I wondered. I'm wondering now, but wondering loses its luster when you know the answer."

"What happened?!" Lennox panicked/panics/would panic. She was dead/She is dead/She will be dead.

"Wishes and whispers, my dear. Wishes and whispers. A grand ploy, one only a being as old as the stars could muster up. The metaphysics involved... goodness, now that was stroke of genius. He may be the littlest of the clutch, but your gun is surely the smartest. He needed a medium through which he could garner tribute and sustenance, so he used you. He needed a place to dig through the walls of time and space, so he picked the locked door of Io's Pyramidion. He needed the power to break that lock, so he used the desire of the Dragon whose self-made wish was to kill you. Now he's free to find a breeding grounds of his choosing and cut it away from all other timelines. He will not just be Xol, weakest of the Worm Gods. He will be Xol, the Sole God. The Victorious Worm."

Lennox and metaphysics didn't mix. She left/leaves/would leave that with a certain responsible Warlock. "Oh no," she repeated/repeats/would repeat. She looked/looks/would look around. "Where's Gecko? Where's my Ghost?!"

The voice tutted/tuts/would tut. "Gone. Here. Everywhere. Dead and not dead, and everything in between."

"I've got to find him, please help-"

"He's a part of you. Your precious Ghost was only a gathering of Light/Sky/Gift/Blessings that is also a part of you. That's the relationship between Guardians and Ghosts, right? The Traveler, a being of Light, sawed off pieces of itself to share that Light with younger and lesser beings to suit its purposes. Light is life, so it became life and it made life that is different-but-the-same. There's always a pattern. Children have to take after their parents in some manner. In this case you were a being of flesh, but your very life was kickstarted by the very same Light that kickstarted your Ghost. If the shell of a Ghost is pierced, the Light is released and spreads out."

"He's... dead?" Her hands shook/shake/would shake.

"Are you listening? His shell was pierced, and where did his Light go? Between the Dragon and the Worm who both salivate over the chance to eat some Light and life, it fled to the nearest sanctuary it could find. You. The energy that was your 'Gecko' is now and always will and will never be a part of you."

She stopped/stops/would stop listening at that point/all points/no point. "NO! NONONONO!"

"Yes. Yesyesyesyes. Look, I'm going to forget about all this very soon, so I'll... You're not listening, are you?"

"WHY?!"

"Because Worm Logic/Sword Logic/War Logic cannot allow for unnecessary alliances. Hey..." The voice softened/softens/would soften, and Lennox heard it/hears it/would hear it whispering in her ear. "Want to break even?"

* * *

"These cliffs are bottomless."

"You said it would be this way!" She hated/hates/would hate how ragged her voice sounded/sounds/will sound. There was/is/always will be a gaping hole in her mind, in her very soul where Gecko had once been. It had been/is/will be too sudden. She didn't/doesn't/will not get a chance to say goodbye. It was/is/will be too cruel for her to fathom, and because of that she promised that the Worm would pay for it.

The voice persisted/persists/would persist. "It is."

"It's a dead end!"

"Only if you see the edge as a barrier. This ravine is where the Will of Thousands tore off his new fiefdom. Conquest is his way."

Lennox peered/peers/would peer over the ledge. "What happens if I fall?"

"Eternal limbo."

"Not good."

"No, probably not."

"Then where to, oh mysterious voice?"

"Do you want to get even?"

She hardened/hardens/would harden her gaze. "Yes."

"How far are you willing to go?"

"What?"

"How far?"

It didn't/doesn't/will not take long for her to decide. "As far as I need to. Gecko was mine."

"Remember what I said? Light seeks out a medium when faced with hostile elements."

"Yeah?"

"You are Light."

"Wait, hold on, what are you-"


	2. Chapter 2

**"Spark"**

_/error: firewall breached/  
/error: signal origin undetermined/  
/scanning: concurrent/  
/scanning: complete/  
/analysis: unknown incoming transmission/  
/content: unknown/  
/scanning: complete/  
/analysis: viral energy reading/  
/urgent: effect unknown/  
/hypothesis: hostile external viral assault/  
/commencing shutdown/  
/command overridden/  
/error: mind core breached/memory drives endangered/  
/commencing stasis lock/  
/error: spark chamber breached/  
/command overridden/spark endangered/  
/error: system overriden/forced reactivation imminent/  
/commencing reactivation/  
/directive: unknown/  
/goodbye/_

* * *

She groaned as she came to. Her head rang like someone had a go at it with a sledgehammer. She onlined her optics and looked around.

Red sand everywhere. No, not red sand. Particles of rusted steel, each of them as slim and sharp as glass shards. That was her first surprise. The second was the alien glyphs rolling across her sight. A language file she didn't know she had translated them for her.

_/error: memory drives corrupted/_

Lennox attempted to shoot to her feet, but she didn't know her own strength and weight. As soon as she was up, she tipped back over onto the bed of solid rust, though it couldn't have been farther from her mind.

_OhcrapohcrapohcrapnononononotlikeBanshee!_

She sifted back through her memory files, trying to find the leak, but she came away with... nothing wrong. The files were all there - from her revival in the last dying days of the Dark Age to the ragged aftermath of the Red War. Nothing was amiss.

In terms of memory, that was. The same couldn't be said for the rest of her mind. The presence of foreign files and coding alien in origin was probably the most alarming part. It couldn't have been more different from EXO programming if it tried. That frightened her.

"The hell?" She blurted out loud. Her voice was... almost the same. Just like the new files, her vocabulator felt different. Her voice was more mechanical in tone. Inhuman. She reached up to feel for a difference, but she only managed to jab herself in the neck. Lennox pulled her hand back immediately. That _hurt_.

It didn't take long to discover the 'why'. Her fingers just weren't like normal fingers anymore. They were claws. Just like those cybernetic meathooks the Red Legion oh so loved. One of them was stained at the tip with a bright bluish liquid. The same digit she'd accidentally stabbed herself with.

"Ouch," she said for lack of any better word. The pain in her neck persisted in the form of a dull throb.

Her eyes lowered. The 'meathooks' were attached to a limb that was completely unlike her previous arm. For a starter, they weren't covered by sleeves. It was just bare plating painted teal, while the talons were simple silver. She followed the arm to a shoulder, which was accentuated by a tightfitting pauldron painted black. Past the pauldron, though, she spied a rather alarming 'something else', and likely one of the contributing factors to her imbalance.

She had a goddamn wing. It was her third surprise. No, two wings. A single big wing and a smaller one below it. And a glance to her other side revealed the same thing. Two more wings, identical to the first pair. She dimly thought she looked like a cross between a dragonfly, a jet, and an Exo.

She let out a hysterical laugh. She didn't care that it didn't sound like her. Everything around her was insane, so why not give in? But sanity was clingy and refused to let her go, despite the sheer ridiculousness of... _everything_ about it. About _her_.

Lennox gave the rest of her body a cursory look. It was quite clearly not of EXO design. She was in possession of a streamlined humanoid form with wings. Most of her was teal in colour, like her forearms, but the thickest layers of metal plating - pauldrons, calves and feet, knee guards, and elbow guards - were black. On the opposite end of things, where the metal was thinnest, it was left silver. Her upper pair of wings, the larger ones, were black while the smaller pair were teal.

No clothes, though. That was weird. The armour plating looked - and felt - like it was attached to her proper, not merely worn. Everything about it bothered her, but she was beyond caring for simple 'bothers.'

The fourth surprise came when she realized she had a tongue. Some sort of metal contraption not unlike the human equivalent, but still very different. She used it to feel around and discovered pretty much nothing. Her mouth wasn't like that of an organic creature. "Weird," she mumbled. Her new voice still unnerved her.

Her back twitched and one of her wings moved. She wouldn't have noticed it if it hadn't brushed against the fine layer of rust on the ground. She felt _that_. More than that, actually. As soon as her focus was on it, she felt a presence flowing against them. A light gale coming from her left.

Lennox nodded, pretending she understood. "Right, wings are sensitive."

It took a few minutes to learn how to move them. When she had that down, of course she had to try flapping them. She was left sorely disappointed.

"What's the point in wings if they don't even work?" She muttered darkly. "This is absurd. Hey, Gecko, come take a pho-"

Then it hit her.

Gecko was gone.

And she was _dead_.

"Oh." The confusion melted away as an endless abyss of sorrow muscled its way in. "Oh Gecko."

She sat there for quite a while. When being sad lost its charm and anger became the more appealing emotion, she forced herself to her feet - toeless metal boots more like - and got a feel for how her new body balanced. The wings were light, despite being quite sizable, and didn't throw her off quite as much as she previously imagined.

The next step in _Operation: Kill the Worm_ was to find civilization - or, more likely, the dead equivalent of civilization. A spaceport would be most ideal. The red rust carried off in every direction, but the faint outline of a city loomed up ahead as a grey-brown mass of blocky structures and needle-like towers across the horizon.

Lennox sighed and readied herself up for the long hike. In a body that wasn't her own. Without Gecko.

It was shaping up to be a very bad day. The worst yet.

* * *

It only further deteriorated. Her bad day turned into an awful one. Some of the rust got in under her armour and the feeling of it scratching at her inner plating was horrible. She didn't dare use her claws to pick at it. Not after poking a hole in her neck with a talon.

Claws were tricky, she found. She discovered a newfound respect for the Fallen.

It only got worse when the rust found its way into her vents. She didn't even know she _had_ vents. Not until they were clogged up.

The awful day became an unbearable one when the winds picked up and tossed more rust right at her. It was like being hit with the full force of a concentrated hailstorm. Still, she carried on. Sometimes she figured that Gecko would sort her out when they left the desert behind, but then she'd remember he was dead and get sad all over again. It was a cycle of cursing and half-hearted sobs that she thoroughly despised. The only thing she hated more than that was the Worm. And, oh by the Traveler, she was going to make him suffer.

She walked on and on, and when she thought her joints couldn't take more rust, the city was right there. It was so close. And yet so far. Walls had been built up to keep the rust outside. Smart. And her death sentence.

"Ah crap."

So Lennox continued walking, this time parallel to the wall in hopes of finding an entrance. But there was no entrance. Not for miles and miles of wall. Eventually it became too much, and she fell face-first into the rust.

 _That's it_ , she thought dimly. _That's me done in._

A new line of code scrawled across her sight.

_/error: external oxidization exceeding nanobot limit/infection imminent/_

_/commencing stasis lock/_

"Oh no, come on, this isn't-"

* * *

_/disengaging stasis lock/_

"-fair!"

A harsh light shone in her optics. Lennox blinked rapidly. She felt... different. The rust in her plating was gone. The ground beneath her was different too. Gone was the sea of red particles, replaced by a smooth slab of steel.

Someone stood over her. Like her, the figure looked like a meatier Frame with an Exo-like head. It had a blockier body than hers, painted in red and white. Its fingers were blunt, not the claws she had, and it possessed no wings. The glaring light came from an object clutched in one of its metal hands.

"You're up!" The figure cheerfully exclaimed. "Finally! That's good. That's very good. Would you please follow the light?"

Lennox hesitated.

"The light, please."

She followed the light with her optics. She was unarmed and not quite accustomed to her current body, but her claws were sharp and undoubtedly capable of-

"Yes, keep following. You're very lucky, you know that? I've never seen such a beat up chassis as yours."

A few dents and scratches, nothing more. It hadn't _felt_ quite so bad.

"Can you speak?" The other... being (not human in any case) inquired.

Lennox cleared her vocabulator. "Yes."

"Good. Good! That should clear this up." The figure leaned over her. "What the _frag_ were you _thinking_?! Hiking through the Sea of Rust is suicide!"

"I-"

"Why the Pit didn't you fly out? Hmm?"

"I can't fly." She tried frowning. It was easier with her current form than with an Exo face.

The other... metal person, for lack of a better term, made the mechanical equivalent of a snort. "Don't try that with me. I had a look at your flight systems. They're still operational."

Lennox hesitated. "Flight systems?"

"Very cute." The other guy snarked. And it was a guy. He sounded masculine, in a mechanical robot sort of way. Somehow. She wasn't quite sure how she figured that. "Oh, you Seekers are a laugh."

"I don't... What's going on?"

His entire demeanor shifted. "You're serious."

"Where... Where am I?"

"Stanix. A far cry from Vos, I know, but beggars can't be choosers. How are your memory banks looking?"

Lennox tensed. She didn't want him, didn't want _anyone_ , anywhere near her memories. "Why?"

The other robot reached to the side and procured a datapad dotted with alien symbols. "Let's have a peek... Oh. Oh dear."

"What?"

"Your memory drives are..."

"Are what?!"

He looked suddenly uncomfortably. "Memory drives are corrupted. Sorry. I'll see if I can trace the-"

It was then that she saw that the datapad was connected to a cable that led directly to a port in her arm, where her plating had neatly folded out of the way. With a flash of motion, she ripped the cable away and backed up on the metal platform. "Get out! Get out of my head! Out!"

"I..." He bowed his head. "Alright. I'll be downstairs if you need anything. Just... try to remain calm."

The very moment he left the room, and the door slide closed behind him, Lennox curled up into a ball. Panic and rage and misery ripped through her like a shock blade.

* * *

Some time later, she managed to pry the door open and walk, with some difficulty, down the aforementioned stairs. There was a kitchen area, of sorts, below. A metal table had been set up in the centre of it all, surrounded by metal chairs. And sitting on those chairs were more metal people.

Lennox was hardly quiet. Her body was strange; she couldn't control it with any degree of confidence. They looked up as the sound of heavy, clanking footfalls reached them and saw her there, halfway down the stairs. There were four of them; the guy from earlier, two more similarly-sized mechanical beings, and a smaller version that looked like a cross of the two latter robots.

"What's happening?" Lennox croaked. It was a bad dream. It had to be. She was going to wake up and find Gecko alive. Find Cayde and Sundance alive. Otherwise... She didn't want to think about otherwise. Otherwise was reserved until all other options were exhausted. And otherwise didn't have a good ending.

The metal man from earlier slowly stood and grimaced. "While you appear to be in stable condition, your memory cores are... corrupted. How much can you remember?"

Lennox hesitated. "I don't..." She didn't want to say anything. She didn't _know_ these people. "Where am I? Who are you?"

The metal man paused. "My designation is Complexius. I'm a medicinal physician."

 _Complexius?_ Lennox frowned - or she tried to, in any case. Her new face was expressive, but the process of actually using it was alien to her. _What the hell kind of name is that?!_

The other two of comparable size stood. The first to speak was slightly more streamlined than their compatriot. "I am Phosphora," it, _she_ , said. She looked to her as-yet-unnamed partner. "This is my sparkmate, Overwatch."

Overwatch dipped his head in greetings. Lennox was left no less confused.

"And this," Phosphora said proudly, laying a hand on the shoulder of the short metal person, "is Daybreak. He is our creation."

Daybreak smiled at Lennox. There was an uncertainty in it. Confusion and worry, just like the ones offered by the others.

"I d-don't-" She stumbled back, almost losing her balance and falling down the stairs. She quickly made her way down. Overwatch stepped forward and offered his hand, but she ignored it. She wasn't helpless. Just Lightless.

 _Lightless_. The pain of it would never cease, of that she was certain.

"Do you need to sit down?" Phosphora asked. Concern dripped from every word. Lennox didn't want concern.

She wanted Gecko.


	3. Chapter 3

**"Cybertron"**

Complexius left her with a datapad. At least that hadn't changed. The alien runes might have been an issue if the new language files she had didn't cover them. It was a blessing, of sorts. But she didn't appreciate the mystery associated with all of it.

She had so many questions. Complexius said that the datapad could answer some of them. The rest she could ask of Phosphora or Overwatch, but that was a gamble. Lennox didn't feel like talking to anyone else for a long, long time. Or ever. It only reminded her of how quiet and cold it was inside her head. Gecko's warmth was gone. His shy encouragements were never to be heard again.

She missed him so, so much.

Lennox had retreated to the room she woke up in not long after Complexius left. Phosphora told her she could use it, and that they were available if she needed any help. That was as far as she got before Lennox rushed back up the stairs and sat against the metal-bed-thing.

It wasn't that she disliked people. She just... disliked being at a disadvantage where others were concerned.

The datapad didn't have a search function. Not initially. No, it had a programme curtailed towards those afflicted with amnesia. Lennox didn't have amnesia, but she ran the programme regardless. Just to get it out of the way.

Most of it was useless psychology crap. She didn't need a psychiatrist - just some damn answers. And the datapad refused to give her anything definitive. She was very, very close to throwing it at the opposite wall when the door slid open. Phosphora cautiously peeped in. "Are... are you alright, dear?"

 _No_. "I'm fine," Lennox lied. _I don't want this I don't want this I don't want this I want Gecko and Ikharos and Jaxson and Cayde and Sundance and-_

"Now," Phosphora smiled. It was amotherly and honest smile and Lennox was already sick of it. "You and I already know that isn't true."

 _I want to be alone!_ "I'll be fine."

"... You don't believe that. It's true, yes, but I can see you don't think so." Phosphora stepped inside. The door slid shut behind her. It gave Lennox claustrophobia. There was more than enough room for two of them but it wasn't enough. "What's your... do you remember your designation, dear?"

 _Designation. Name._ "Lennox," she admitted.

Phosphora's smile faltered. "Pardon?"

"Lennox-2."

"Dear?"

"That's my... designation."

"Dear, what did you say?" The smile had become a full-blown frown.

Lennox was about to say it again when she realized what she was hearing, not what she was saying. She was speaking in the language that the metal people used, but... the word ' _Lennox_ ' didn't translate. At all. She was saying it in English. "Oh."

"Is something the matter?"

"I... can't say it."

"Ah... well, give yourself time. You're safe here, you have my word." Phosphora awkwardly crossed her arms. "Is there anything I can get you? Energon cube?"

 _Energy what?_ "What is that?"

"Energon cube. I'm sure you need some after you hike through the Rust Sea. I'll get you one." And with that said, Phosphora left. She left Lennox both mystified and anxious.

There was nothing to do but read the datapad or inspect her room. Lennox decided on the latter. It was bare, aside from the incredibly uncomfortable bed and a small viewport on the other wall. She wandered over to the window and peeked out. There were lights outside. It looked like a road ahead - perhaps a motorway, given its size. What really stole her focus was the sky. It was dark, but the stars were out all the same.

They weren't the stars she knew. And Lennox knew the stars. They were her guides when maps failed and Gecko got confused.

She wasn't on Earth. Nor any of the other planetary bodies of Sol. At least, none of the ones she'd visited. And there were moons high above. Two of them. They were fat and bright and gleaming silver.

Phosphora returned with a wide smile and a glass cube in which rippled a glowing blue liquid. "Energon," she explained.

Lennox was past caring about that. "What planet are we on?" She quietly asked.

The other... woman?... hesitated. "Cybertron, of course!" She proclaimed.

"Cybertron," Lennox repeated very slowly. Panic bled into her voice. "Cybertron?"

"Yes?"

"And... where is Cybertron? Relative to Earth?"

"Earth? What's Earth?"

"Terra? Gaia?" She was getting desperate.

"I'm... afraid I don't understand." Phosphora sounded genuinely concerned. Lennox couldn't have cared less.

She trembled. She fell against the wall and slid to the floor. Her oversensitive wings twinged with discomfort. She tried to hyperventilate - never could before, still couldn't now. A roar came from within her chest. It was like a Sparrow engine. A really, _really_ , angry Sparrow engine.

"Where... How... No..." She cupped her head in unfamiliar hands. "I don't... I'm lost. I don't... _understand_!"

Phosphora stood a pace away, concerned yet lost herself. Lennox didn't have the patience to tell her what was wrong. She didn't _want_ to tell. Gecko was hers, even in death. Even in memory. Gecko was hers.

Exhaustion swept in hours later. Maybe days. Phosphora had left at some point. Lennox dimly remembered getting up and walking over to the metal slab. It was better than a steel floor - marginally.

She laid down flat to avoid hurting her oversensitive wings and offlined her optics. Sleep came slowly, but when it did the dreams flared to life. She found comfort in their strange familiarity.

* * *

_Golden fields spread out in every direction. There was a tower beyond them, a black tower she called home. The distant mountains reared up like jagged fangs, tearing into the succulent flesh of the sky._

_Lennox always arrived when it was dusk. This time was different. This time it was midnight. The moon stared at her like a giant accusatory eye. It blinked once, twice, no more._

_Something screamed. A bird circled above, keen eyes appraising the ground below. Looking for field mice. Or something else._

_She needed to reach the tower. Needed to. It was home. But an army stood in her way. People - lots of them. People she knew. She didn't remember some of them, but they were familiar all the same. The ones she knew best were at the front._

_"Don't go to the tower," they chanted. They always did that. It was ritual by then._

_As per tradition, she shouted back, "I have to!"_

_"Don't go!"_

_She went anyways. They tried to stop her - a veritable crowd of friendly faces contorted by urgency. She pushed back. Violence flared. She hit back, harder than they did. Faces fell away, but she wasn't worried. They weren't gone forever. They would wait for the next dream._

_This time was different. Her hands were slick with blood. So was the ground. There was never so much blood. Lennox slipped. The army swarmed her. Fear, real fear, rushed through her. She called out for help._

_All the people disappeared, buffeted away by the air displaced by the bird's wings. It was a hawk, golden and slim. It took the place of the moon and flew to her hand. It became her weapon. She never had a weapon before._

_The hawk's talons cleared her a way through the army. Bodies parted before her. The army surged and died. The way was clear._

_It was never clear before._

_The tower was within reach. The black tower in which she was reborn. A man stood within, withered and dying. His tongue was a snake. "I-" He began._

_She let loose the hawk. It flew at him, talons outstretched._

_The serpent-tongued man said, "Men are so quick to blame the gods: they say that we devise their misery. But they themselves - in their depravity - design grief greater than the griefs that fate assigns."_

_The talons struck him. The dream shattered._

* * *

There was no grogginess in the act of waking up. Her new body was efficient. It had few of the flaws that afflicted humans. Less than an Exo body did, in any case.

Lennox sat up straight and looked around with optics that ached to be bleary.

Daybreak stood by the door, nervous as any child would be with a stranger. "Phosphora told me to tell you that there's Energon on the table, if you want to refuel."

Lennox almost said no, but a blip in the corner of her vision stopped her in her tracks. Her fuel counter was low. Fuel. Not food. Fuel. It wasn't an Exo body. She would have to get used to that. Lennox smothered the resurfacing sorrow and stepped away from the metal slab. "I'll... have some," she said softly.

Daybreak smiled and ran off. Lennox heaved a sigh and walked after him.

The entire family was gathered at the table downstairs - Overwatch, Phosphora, and Daybreak.

"Complexius doesn't live here?"

"No, dear," Phosphora smiled gladly. She looked relieved to see her again. "He lives elsewhere."

"But I'm..."

"We offered to house you, and we'll hold to that promise."

"Thank you," Lennox murmured. She hesitated for a moment before taking the empty place at her table. The wings were, yet again, an issue, but she managed to find some measure of success.

There were four Energon cubes. They looked identical to the one Phosphora had yesterday. "What do I do with this?" Lennox asked.

Overwatch showed her how to remove the transparent cover - was it glass? Or some kind of crystal? - and supped from his own cube. They drank it through their mouths, like any biological creature would. Lennox brought her cube to her metal lips and drank.

It tasted like electricity. Not good. Not bad. Just was.

She drained as much as she could, going until the fuel counter on her HUD filled up to the limit. It felt... good. Satisfying. Like satiating a panging hunger.

"Hey, uh..." Daybreak began. "What's your designation?"

"Day!" Phosphora scolded.

Lennox paused. She couldn't hold it off forever. "Hawkmoon."

Three pairs of optics found her. "Hawkmoon?" Overwatch repeated.

Lennox nodded. A part of her wanted to laugh. Another wanted to cry. Neither felt very appropriate. "Yes. I'm... Hawkmoon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Nomad Blue for editing!


	4. Chapter 4

**"Wings"**

She had an appointment to keep at Complexius's clinic. The novelty of it didn't wear off. At all. She never had to do it before. There was no need. Not with... Gecko.

Hawkmoon almost collapsed on the spot. The anger and sorrow was too heavy to bear. It was crushing her. She couldn't stand it.

But, she nonetheless had an appointment to meet. And she couldn't miss it. Not for anything. Not even to mourn.

Phosphora had to get back to work, so Overwatch was going to take her. He was just as supportive and helpful as his 'sparkmate,' but not quite as vocally involved. She read him like a book: the kind of man who was satisfied with a mundane life, charitable in passing but otherwise unremarkable. It was people like him, the average civilian, who she fought tooth and nail to protect. Or rather, _had_ fought tooth and nail to protect.

But that was back on Earth. Back where most people were flesh-and-blood humans. Or flesh-and-blood Awoken. And the odd Alkhahest-and-steel Exo, like she was. _Had been_. Not cybermatter-and-energon Cybertronians.

In truth, the difference was marginal. The Cybertronians she'd met thus far had all been ordinary. Not all that different to humans in a great many respects. Sometimes she liked to think that Cybertron was just another Bray fantasy-made-real. And that every metal person she met was just a new kind of Exo.

And that _she_ was a new kind of Exo.

But a new Exo body couldn't replace the old.

"Hawkmoon?"

She looked up. Overwatch was standing by the door. His smile was encouraging. "Are you ready?"

 _Nothing for me to actually do, so..._ "Yeah." She followed him out. The sun was up and it was _pissed_. It furiously beat down on them without relief. Lennox/Hawkmoon readied a grimace and stepped out into the Mercurial heat... to find it didn't bother her in the slightest. Not even a little.

If the new body really _was_ Bray work, then they had more than outdone themselves.

Outside the house was a quaint alien street. Hawkmoon felt she shouldn't have been so surprised, and yet she was. There was no one in sight, but it was far from abandoned. It was too clean. Too... lived in. The town, city, whatever it was, it was _alive_. A far cry from the countless human settlements on Earth just left on the wayside to rot away.

Her optics found Overwatch patiently waiting on the metal pavement. Everything was built of either metal or crystal. It was mind-boggling.

"It isn't far," Overwatch told her. "Can you transform?"

"Transform?" She wasn't sure if she heard right.

Overwatch wore a smile that was equal parts supportive and concerned. "Indeed."

"I don't know-"

Then he folded over upon himself in a wretched show of contorting metal. Hawkmoon stumbled back, eyes wide and stomach (or her Cybertronian equivalent) churning. It didn't last long, but every moment was filled with torturous horror. When the thing that used to be Overwatch finished up, it was left in the form of a blocky vehicle with four wheels.

She just stood there, looking at it. And the car (because that was exactly what it looked like) waited. Finally, it said, "Are you ready?"

Hawkmoon shivered. It was Overwatch's voice. Whatever had taken control of him had his-

The car came apart once more. It was sickening. This time, though, the end result was Overwatch's form, with a troubled frown to boot. And that quickly morphed into sheepish embarrassment.

"Sorry," he said. "So you _can't_ transform?"

"Transform?" She whispered again, taken aback. Her optics were wide. It looked like him... It sounded like him... But was it really him?

Overwatch hesitated. "Don't worry, Complexius will explain everything. We'll walk."

Walking she understood. Walking was easy. Somewhat. Her wings hampered that, but she figured she could summon the ability to stroll wherever they needed to go.

She watched Overwatch like a hawk as he hesitantly went ahead, not entirely convinced that he was... well, him. Her mind was engulfed in a flurry of wild conclusions - she couldn't believe what she had witnessed. It beggared belief.

She filed the information away to mull over later. Most of her life consisted of the impossible already - what was one more mystery added to the pile?

Overwatch walked. She struggled to keep up. Her weight was off. The wings offset her balance horribly. Her new body was strange, but she could get used to it. Wings? Not at all.

At least, not for the time being.

Maybe she could ask Complexius to remove them. They weren't doing anything for her.

* * *

The clinic wasn't that far from Phosphora's and Overwatch's home, but that was only in retrospect. Actually walking it felt like taking a hike through the Outback all over again, while laden down with a trove full of stolen tech.

In short, it was too drawn out to be anywhere near pleasant.

Overwatch pressed a button beside the door. They waited. Eventually, it slid open and yet another mechanical person peered out at them. It, _he_ , was painted almost entirely red, from foot to helm. His face was left a stark white, clad in a helmet-like growth the colour of blood. Where his plating didn't cover him greys and blacks reigned supreme.

"We're here to see Complexius," Overwatch announced.

The stranger nodded. "Are you? I'll clear it with-" He caught sight of her and paused. His optics widened. He smiled "Oh! The lost Seeker, eh? Please, come in!" He stepped aside and swept his arm out, as if welcoming them into a mighty palace rather than a weathered old clinic.

Overwatch frowned. Hawkmoon, for her part, didn't see what the problem was.

The red mech picked up the pace and walked with her. He smiled widely. "And you are...?" He ventured.

"Hawkmoon," she replied, flushing her voice with a confidence she didn't feel. "You?"

"Knockout." He bowed his head - helm, whatever - in what she assumed was a welcoming gesture. "Complexius has spoken about you. It's good to finally assign some faceplates to the myth." He had a smooth voice. It paired well with his sleek, almost dangerous appearance.

"Myth?" She tilted her helm - _got it right that time_! - and tried her best to frown. She loved how expressive her new face was.

"Precious few Seekers pass through here," Knockout elaborated. He looked her up and down. She subconsciously crossed her arms. "And, uh-"

The door at the end of the hall slid open. Complexius poked his helm out. "Ah! You're here!" He looked past them. "Hello, Overwatch."

"Complexius," the other mech greeted.

"Come in!" Complexius disappeared back into his office. Knockout smiled and motioned to the door.

"Charming," Hawkmoon muttered. She fixed him with the most intense, scrutinizing look she could muster and delighted in the way his grin faltered. She went right ahead.

The office wasn't overly large, and there wasn't much in it beyond a desk, a computer terminal, a shelf full of datapads, and five chairs - the largest of which was behind said desk. That was where Complexius sat. Hawkmoon took one at random and grimaced as the back of the chair pressed against her wings. They had fast evolved from a reminder of her ongoing existential crisis to a more tame (in comparison) irritant.

What did she even _have_ them for?

Overwatch took another seat, and Knockout waited by the door. Complexius put his elbows on the desk and interlocked his fingers together. "So," he began, "how are you feeling?"

What a question.

"Lost," she admitted, "but a little less panicky."

"That's good." The physician-robot hummed. "And you walked all the way here?"

"I did," she confirmed, nodding.

"Very good. Your basic motor functions are returning?"

At that, she nodded again.

"And optical and auditory sensors are fully operational?"

A third nod.

"Have you attempted a transformation sequence?"

This time, she gave a hesitant shake of the head - _helm, dammit!_ \- and tapped the edge of the desk with her sharpened fingers. She wasn't particularly fond of staying in one place too long. The wilds still called to her. What wilds Cybertron possessed, she didn't know, but a part of her was eager to find out.

The rest of her just wanted some damn answers.

"So what's the deal with transformations?" Hawkmoon asked. She tried to phrase it as nonchalantly as she could. It didn't fool anyone, not least Complexius.

"You can't transform?" He questioned. A tone of concern entered his voice. His eyes flashed bright. Hawkmoon had no idea what it meant. "You're no femmeling," he muttered under a breath that wasn't there. "And your t-cog is operational..."

"What is transformation?" She pressed, a tad more urgently. "Overwatch... well, he did a thing."

"A thing?" Overwatch echoed. He sounded torn between amused and baffled.

"Yeah. You... I don't know, changed. Rearranged."

"I transformed into my alt mode."

"Alt mode?"

"Alternate mode."

"Yeah, I picked up on that," she said dryly. She turned to Complexius. "What in the world is an alternate mode?"

He frowned. "We are Cybertronians. The ability to transform into an alternate mode is... integral to who we are."

A civilization built on the ability to shapeshift. Splendid. An Ahamkara's paradise. "Ah," she said, feigning some measure of understanding. "And... I have this?"

"I expect so. You must have flown into the Sea of Rust. Or you were sent there by a ground-bridge, but that-"

"Hold on." A brief spike of excitement ripped through all her simmering qualms. "I can _fly_?!"

His frown turned upside down. "Yes, you can," he affirmed with a smile. "You are a Seeker."

"That... doesn't mean anything to me."

He pointed behind her. No, not behind. At her wings. "Seekers are like you. Those who inherit flight-enabled chassis."

"How do I..."

Complexius' hands - _no, servos!_ \- shot up. "Don't!"

Hawkmoon froze. "What?"

"Don't. Not inside." He stood up. "And not without the supervision of a professional."

"But..." The excitement began to fade. In a last ditch effort to hang onto one of the few positive emotions she'd happened upon since arrival, she blurted: "Wait a... When I awo- When I onlined, you said my flight protocols are intact. Doesn't that mean I can fly _right now_?"

Complexius's frown returned. By the Traveler, he liked to frown. Not that she could blame him. Frowning was great fun when you had the face to do it. "Ye-es... But it would be irresponsible of me to allow you to do so unaided. I'll check in a call to city officials. Perhaps another Seeker can-"

"No!" She said. It was louder than she intended. The last thing she wanted was for 'officials' to get involved. They might figure something was awry and... well, she imagined it would only end in unpleasantness.

And unpleasantness was bad. Especially for the Lightless. Hawkmoon found herself fearing even the most trivial of damage to her new chassis. She didn't have the means to effortlessly shrug pain and death off like they didn't even matter. Not anymore.

Being Lightless was a uniquely terrifying experience. She didn't like it one bit.

"No," she said again, but more calmly. "I can figure it out myself."

Complexius shot her a look full of disapproval. "That is incredibly dangerous."

"I'll take precautions."

"If something goes wrong, I'll be the one soldering you back together.

Hawkmoon winced. Soldering didn't sound fun either. "Then I'll try not to let anything go... wrong?"

There was a snort from the door. Complexius looked past her. "Enjoying this, Knockout?"

The chuckles died away. "Uh... no sir. Sorry sir."

"Well, excuse us for boring you. Should I find you some work?"

She could almost _hear_ his cringe. "No sir!"

Complexius smiled in a self-satisfied manner and leaned back. "Then, perhaps, you might keep your silence."

Knockout didn't reply. Hawkmoon supposed if he had, Complexius would jump on it. The physician had a grouchiness about him that even she didn't want to test any further.

Unfortunately, the grouchiness saw fit to seek her out. "What you propose is... ill-advised. I'll tell you that here and now: it's dangerous."

"I don't care," Hawkmoon shrugged. But she did. Danger had a whole new meaning for reality without Gecko. Even so, it was a risk she had to take. To invite the attention of powerful players she didn't know of-

"And what of your memory cores?"

"Mem-" _The amnesia._ "Nothing."

"Pity. Not even a designation?"

"I call myself Hawkmoon."

"Hawkmoon... Did you remember that?"

She shook her helm. "No. It just... felt right."

"... ' _Felt right_ '?" Complexius quoted incredulously. He sighed. "Maybe some fragments of memory survived. I'll search for a missing person's report with that designation. We might return you to your family-unit yet."

Family. Her family was a shy green Ghost with a love for logistics and kittens. Her family was an old, reserved Warlock with a penchant for speaking Eliksni and casting Nova Bombs. Her family was a near-mute Titan who liked tossing burning hammers at Hive gods and wrestling Colossi bare-handed way more than he should.

Hawkmoon tried to swallow past the lump in her alien throat and numbly nodded. There was no family to find, because it had been torn asunder with a burning blade called Xol, Future-Murder-Victim.

* * *

After a few more meaningless questions, Hawkmoon was allowed to leave. She and Overwatch returned to the latter's home, where she retreated to her room and sat on the bed-thingy to think.

Not minutes later, she walked back down the stairs and announced, "I'm going to fly."

Overwatch, who had been furiously typing into a datapad by the dining table, gawked at her. " _Now_?"

Hawkmoon shrugged. "Yeah? Better sooner than later, right? I've got to get my bearings."

"You... want to fly?"

She thought that had been obvious. "Yes."

"But... you can hardly walk!"

Hawkmoon blamed that on conflicting motor-protocols - the ones for her previous Exo body argued incessantly with her new Cybertronian ones. And, considering she'd never _flown_ before (salvaged jumpships and stolen Threshers didn't count), she was confident her flight protocols would function without a hitch.

The transformation thing unnerved her. That was the only downside. But, as she so recently discovered by peeling away at her body's ingrained operating system, her flight protocols weren't solely restricted to an alternate form. Apparently, the thrusters and wings on her back had a function even in normal form.

Which was great!

She made it outside, walked onto the garden-esque area in front of Overwatch's and Phosphora's home (devoid of plants, of course) and offlined her optics. Hawkmoon delved within to gingerly poke the flight protocols and ghost over all they entailed. She stayed far from the one including a transformation.

_Right, prod that, do that, let that happen, and..._

It was slow to start, if only because she was being extra cautious. Hawkmoon began by powering her thrusters with as little energy as she could give them. Her wings moved, almost automatically, to work with them. It was frighteningly close to muscle memory.

Her body already knew what to do.

They twitched and folded and readjusted here and there. She could feel everything with them - every breeze on the air, every wave of pressure emanating from her thrusters, every dust particle that landed upon the sensitive metal. It was... surreal.

Hawkmoon increased the power. Her weight lifted, but she didn't leave the ground. Her body felt as light as a feather.

More power.

Then, _then_ , her pedes rose up. She onlined her optics.

She was _flying_.

Her spark/heart/core rapidly beat with the thrill of it all. It wasn't frightening in any way, _because she knew what to do_. She could fly just like that.

Her wings tilted down and she shot up. Hawkmoon paused the moment she raised over the house in which she was staying. Overwatch stood by the door, watching her. She could see everything - his troubled look, the way he crossed his arms and tapped his digits against his elbows, how he discreetly shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Damn, these optics of hers were powerful.

Hawkmoon swooped down and landed with more grace than she thought she could muster. Flying was like riding a bike. She never truly forgot. Even if she never actually learned in the first place.

She beamed. "There!"

"There..." Overwatch trailed off. "Are you going to try your alt mo-"

"No!" She shook her head. "I'm not going to test my luck."

"Good," he muttered, relieved. "Good."

* * *

Dinner (if that's what Cybertronians called it) was a light-hearted affair. Overwatch quickly brought up the matter of her flying, this time with more approval, and Phosphora and Daybreak both congratulated her with honest, supportive smiles.

It was... nice.

It couldn't replace the hole in her heart - _she preferred to call it that over spark, if only to retain what remained of her humanity_ \- but it was nice to have all the same.


	5. Chapter 5

**"No, shut up, I've got this"**

Flying was addictive. Who saw that coming? She sure didn't. Hawkmoon finally knew why all those Titans turned themselves into Arc-ified missiles. It was _fun_. And, as with everything titled F-U-N, there was someone who lived to kill it. Not a stern Warlock this time around, but an equally stern Cybertronian.

"I get nervous when you start flying," Overwatch said in his sympathetic _I-know-I-can't-order-you-but-I'm-gonna-anyways_ tone. "It can go wrong so quickly, and there won't be anything I can do to help."

 _You could stop putting ideas in my head._ "Sorry." _Not sorry._ "I just... I have this need to take to the air. It helps me..." Hawkmoon hesitated. What word could encapsulate how she felt? "Forget."

He raised an eyebrow - _nope, optical ridge_ \- in a way that just _screamed_ unimpressed. "Forget?"

"Forget all that's gone wrong," she said quickly. It wasn't a lie. He just didn't need to know the extent of her misfortunes. That was for her and her alone.

"You take to the air, you risk life and limb, just to forget what happened?"

 _Well, when you put it like that..._ "Yeah."

"Uh huh..." He didn't believe her. That was clear from the get-go. But, in all honesty, Hawkmoon didn't particularly care. Authority had always been someone else's problem, not hers. She was a free spirit. Nothing to tie her down.

Overwatch's optics shuttered. "Just be careful."

"I'll try." Not hard to promise that.

* * *

Local Cybertron days were called orns, and they lasted thirteen Earth days according to her chronometer. It was... difficult to get used to. Especially since all the Cybertronians she'd met thus far treated orns like a normal twenty-four hour day. Phosphora and Overwatch went to work - the former as some sort of business consultant and the latter as a technician at a radio station in the centre of the city. Daybreak went to school.

That left her time to fly, or - as she'd just discovered an interest in - to go for a stroll and explore the surrounding metropolis. Stanix wasn't so much a city as it was a city-state. The city-states were the equivalent of nations, and they were spread all across Cybertron. The bigger, important ones, like Iacon to the north and Praxus to the west, were where much of the planetary governmental power lay. In fact, Iacon was the seat of the Cybertronian government, which held jurisdiction even above the local governments of each city-state.

Or so Hawkmoon had been told.

Stanix was small, out of the way, and rather ordinary as city-states went. It was located smack bang on the equator, which went some ways to explaining the intense heat, and it bordered the Sea of Rust to the east and Helex to the southwest.

Vos, the city-state of Seekers, was in the northern hemisphere and practically on the other side of the planet, hence the lack of Seeker activity. That was nothing short of a blessing. Hawkmoon didn't want to chance running into others of the same chassis, lest they raise questions to which she had no real answers.

Without that fear, her walks through the surrounding cityscape was lax and easygoing. Phosphora and Overwatch lived on the outside of the city, in some sort of suburb district. There were no skyscrapers or factories to mar the morning views. It was... pleasant.

Hawkmoon always walked at the mid-morning part of the orn. There were fewer people around, meaning less eyes to ogle her wings and less noise to pollute her thoughts. She strolled slowly, unhurried. She hadn't any muscles(real or synthetic) to put to the test, so the whole jogging aspect kinda lost its lull.

Besides, if she wanted to go fast, flying was the way to go.

There wasn't any direction in particular for her to tread. Phosphora had told her there were markets southwards of their house that bustled with activity at midday, but Hawkmoon wanted to avoid crowds. And people in general. At least for the time being.

But some people just went out of their way to ruin her solitude.

A red car-thingamajig swerved around a corner and looked to speed right on past her, but it screeched to a stop and transformed. Hawkmoon stared; she'd never get used to that. The red car became a red mech, and said red mech strolled over with a wide grin.

"Knockout," she greeted amiably. What uncertainty had built up in her spark quickly dispelled.

He dipped his helm. "Hawkmoon. A pleasure."

She raised an optical ridge. "I'm sure it is. You racing?"

"Alone? No, that's just a pleasure drive."

"At that speed?"

"What can I say? I'm smooth."

She rolled her optics. Damn it felt good. "How's your work going?"

"Oh, fine." His smile fell, but it was all part of his act. "Nothing exciting."

"What defines exciting?"

"Anything other than dents and rust spots."

"Oh no," Hawkmoon drawled. "Complexius is starving you."

Knockout shrugged. "Just how things go around here... But it won't be forever."

"You moving?"

"Certainly. As soon as I can, I'm out." His smirk returned. "It'll be the Iacon Academy for me."

"Medicinal practices?" Hawkmoon guessed.

Knockout nodded vigorously. "Exactly. Give or take a couple of vorns, I'll have my very own clinic to run."

Vorns. Cybertronian years. Equivalent to eighty-three Earth years. That was way too long for... everything. Orns were alright, she'd been on planets where the days just dragged on and on, but vorns? It was insanity. How could Knockout stand to wait entire vorns to find his dream job?

Maybe she was just impatient. Or maybe, she grimly mused, she was seeing it from the short-lived human point of view.

Knockout favoured her with a questioning look. "What about you?"

"Me? I'm..." She pointed down the street. "... thinking of walking a couple of blocks. Just to get some air. Afraid that's the extent of my plans."

He laughed. She didn't. He stopped. "But... can't you fly?"

"Ye-es." Hawkmoon nodded. "Doesn't mean I can't walk. I do have legs. See?" She raised a knee. Operating her new body was steadily becoming more fluid and natural. In layman terms: she was getting used to it.

Hawkmoon wasn't sure how she felt about that.

She started walking. Knockout walked with her. "But why not fly?"

"Why not drive?" Hawkmoon fired back.

Knockout frowned. "That's... a good point."

"Of course it is. Besides..." Hawkmoon rolled her shoulders. "It helps me master the art of not falling flat on my faceplates."

Knockout snickered. "A noble cause."

"Oh, don't patronize me."

"So... any luck with your memories?"

She rolled her optics. Again. "Suave," she quipped. "And no, nothing."

"Pity." He didn't sound all that worried. "Hey, there's a place I usually pass through not far from here. Want to grab a cube?"

"You saying this as my physician or-?"

"Your physician?" Knockout shook his head. "That's Complexius. I'm just a... a concerned mech."

"Helpful. Riiight." Hawkmoon mulled it over. "Some energon would be nice."

"I'll pay."

"And I'll hold you to that, 'cause I'm broke."

* * *

Cybertronian society was scarily similar to human society. She was essentially having coffee with Knockout. But with a highly-energy fuel substance in place of coffee.

And everything else was practically the same.

When was the last time she'd had coffee? Years and years ago. Certainly before the Red War. Not during the Siva crisis, nor the Taken War. Hawkmoon had been working in Vanguard ops during all that. Before the Black Garden? No. Couldn't have been. That would have predated meeting Jaxson, and she remembered in vivid detail how she and Ikharos brought the young Titan out for lunch. It had been their single day off.

Oh yeah. It had been just after killing Crota. What a time to be alive.

It felt like centuries past. Far too long. By the Traveler, she missed her Fireteam. Missed their chatter. Their presence. Their reliability. Their strange relationship dynamics. Ikharos was the old guy, the smartaholic, the grumpy old granddad. Jaxson was the kid with a bright future. And she... she was the fun one.

And now they were gone. Gone gone gone. Out of her life. Maybe forever.

They were as irreplaceable as Gecko was.

She sipped her energon. It had a crackling bite to it. Like liquid Arc. It went down smooth and settled in her fuel tanks in such a satisfying way she'd never known she needed.

"It's good," she said. Knockout smiled. It was the first honest one he'd given her.

She could have really used a heist at that moment. A big one. To work out the stress. Preferably against the House of Devils. Or what remained of Taniks' crew. Those killers were always made for a thrilling fight. They packed cool toys as well. Hell, maybe she'd even steal their whole Ketch. What a prize that would have made: Taniks' own Ketch.

She would have been the envy of the whole Tower. The only one with the steel to snatch the boogeyman's personal ship out from under his possibly-still-alive nose. Did Eliksni have noses? Nostrils of any kind? They could certainly smell people, but where-

"Will you go back to Vos?" Knockout asked.

Her reply was immediate. "No."

"No?"

"I... don't know anything about it. Or anyone from there. What reason have I to go?"

Knockout nodded slowly and leaned back. They were sitting at one of the outdoor tables right in front of the Cybertronian version of a café. "No family?"

"Not that I know of."

"Really? Or maybe not that you care to know of?"

Hawkmoon sharply looked up. Knockout had an optical ridge raised questioningly. "... No."

"Fair enough."

He was more perceptive than she'd originally thought, even if still wrong. Hawkmoon clammed up; she would have to be more careful around him.

"Can you transform yet?"

She shook her head. "It makes me nervous."

"Nothing to be nervous about."

"Not according to Overwatch."

"Oh, he just lives to worry. It's fine."

"Is it?"

"It's natural."

"Natural scares me. Besides, I can already fly."

"Not as fast. And trust me." He leaned forward and dropped his elbows onto the table. His optics twinkled. "Speed's the name of the game. Nothing gives the same kind of thrill. Well... almost nothing."

She rolled her optics. Again. Hawkmoon had a feeling she'd be doing that a lot where Knockout was concerned. "Well, I'm nervous. I don't know how." She hesitated. "Okay, well I do, but I don't know how it'll go. It just seems so... weird."

"Weird how?"

"Weird as in... This is me. My body. My form. Transforming warps me into a completely different shape. That's so... _strange_."

Knockout's faceplates turned to gentle disbelief. "We're Cybertronians. Transforming's in our nature. It's how Primus made us."

"Primus?"

He faltered. "Aw, yeah. He's... the creator of Cybertron. Of the first Cybertronians."

"Your god?"

"Our god."

 _The only god I haven't played a hand in killing is the Traveler. And that's because it's already half-dead._ "I have no god."

Knockout gave her a funny look. "... Suit yourself."

A short, awkward silence ensued.

He stood up. "Come on."

"What? Where?"

"There's an unused racing track by the Rust-Wall. Plenty of space to practice transforming."

"But I..." She processed his words and chuckled. "Oh, so you _are_ a racer."

"In my spare time. Come oooon."

Hawkmoon downed the rest of her energon and got to her feet. "Fiiiine."

* * *

The racetrack was beyond unused. It was nigh-on _unusable_. It had so many potholes she swore it had to be a part of Luna's surface grafted onto Cybertron's bones.

"How do you even drive?"

Knockout chuckled. "I swerve around them."

"Each one?"

"Helps me master control of my wheels. It's not enough to simply drive. I have to know myself. I have to know my limitations. My potential."

Hawkmoon almost zoned out. It genuinely sounded like he was laying the groundwork for a Warlock lecture on meditation.

He pointed to a less rickety part of the track. "Think you can use that to take off?"

"I don't have wheels," she deadpanned. "My takeoff's probably more vertical."

"Ah... Well, it's there if you need it. Don't scratch your paint."

"Don't... what?"

"You've got such a lovely paintjob," he said patiently. "It'd be a shame if it were ruined."

"Right..." Hawkmoon shook her head and offlined her optics. She reached inside, sifted through rivers of code and valleys of firewalls, until she found the knot of programming wherein her transformation sequences began. There was so much inside. The datapackets were full of... too much to process at once.

Hawkmoon retreated, took an imaginary breath, and decided that the surface function was all she needed. There was a lot to get through, but all she wanted was the basics. And the basics were genuinely simple to navigate.

She could transform. It was within her grasp. All it would take would be a single command. Just one. As easy as blinking. A bodily function just like any other.

_A Cybertronian function. Not human._

Her servos threatened to tremble. Fear radiated from her spark to her cerebral processor. It was so very alien.

"Are you alright?" Knockout asked, strangely concerned.

Hawkmoon nodded but had naught to say. She could do this. She could. It would be so easy. So very simple. So very...

She did it. She onlined the transformation sequence. A strange twinge came from her chest. She realized it was her T-cog. And then...

Then her sight warped. Her body fell apart. And she felt _everything_. It wasn't painful, but it was still too inhuman for her liking. She was falling. Falling. Falling. Her thrusters onlined and kept her from hitting the ground. Her body formed into a narrow arrowhead shape, and its steel hull was her skin. She was the vessel. The drone. The flying object.

It was _her_.

Her body knew what to do, just as it did when she first tried flying. Her thrusters powered up, and with a dull boom she took off. Hawkmoon performed a barrel-roll, just as she had done with her jumpship back when she was Exo, but this time it was her, just her, her alone, and she rolled through the air with more grace than any human pilot could ever have mustered.

It was... incredible. She flew with control over her every movement, beyond what any jumpship, Skiff, or Thresher was capable of. She was faster. She was more agile. She was more in touch. Because it was _her_. Every part of it was _her_.

Hawkmoon tried again and again, but she still couldn't wrap her head around that it was just her, even with every sensation that strived to convince her otherwise. The only thing she could come to terms with was that it was up there with the most wonderful sensations she'd ever had the luck to enjoy.

It couldn't have been more than a few minutes when she returned to where Knockout waited, transformed in midair, and landed on two feet. Her newfound balance was extraordinary. A far cry from when she'd begun, stumbling and tripping up on nothing but air.

"Impressive," Knockout murmured.

Her wings flicked back and forth. They were growing on her. Oversensitive perhaps, but in exchange for easy flight? Hawkmoon wouldn't have traded it for anything.

_Well, almost anything._

She looked up. "I'm going to do that again."

"Need any help?"

"Nope. Just stand there and look shiny."

"Fantastic."

"I thought so too." Hawkmoon flashed him a smile. Just in case he didn't pick up on her not-so-serious tone. As similar as Cybertronians were to the humans she used to know, there was no telling where the differences started. "Thanks, Knockout."

"I didn't do much."

"You convinced me to take the plunge. That's enough."

He smiled back. "It was nothing. Just me being a concerned mech."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thanks to Nomad blue for editing!

**Author's Note:**

> AN: An AU I thought up a while back and spent months imagining. This is a mesh of both lore from Destiny (upon which I will be strictly by-the-book) and Transformers (which will be a little looser).


End file.
